Chapter 34: The Strongest Man in the World (A few bonus chapters have been updated. Interested readers can scroll back to check them out.)

As soon as the voice faded, another group emerged behind the figure, their builds and faces betraying their ill intent. When the Black Spade Pirates saw who had arrived, some began to tremble uncontrollably. With a quivering voice, one of them uttered, "The—The Whitebeard Pirates!"

Though Buffon had anticipated this scene, having pictured it in his mind, the shock of witnessing it firsthand was beyond words. Saul had already stepped forward from behind Buffon to stand at his side, speaking with gravity, "Whitebeard—Edward Newgate!"

Buffon nodded silently, his gaze fixed on the man hailed as the strongest in the world. Whitebeard, who had been active since before the Great Pirate Era began, stood with Roger and Shiki as one of the three great legendary pirates. But with the Pirate King Roger executed and the Golden Lion Shiki vanishing after escaping capture, Whitebeard remained the sole surviving legend.

Sensing the imminent clash, the Black Spade Pirates—seeing Ace fallen and motionless—picked up their weapons and advanced toward the Moby Dick. But Whitebeard's thunderous shout rang out: "One is enough." He leapt from the prow and strode slowly towards them.

Ace, who had only just fainted, snapped awake in an instant. He lifted his head, glaring fiercely at Whitebeard, and forced out a few strained words: "Everyone... don't."

With each collision of Whitebeard's massive blade hilt against the ground, a metallic clang resounded, accompanied by tremors in the earth—each strike like a death knell, cowing the Black Spade Pirates.

Suddenly, Whitebeard halted. He tapped the ground lightly with his hilt, and a wave of Conqueror's Haki radiated from him, sweeping the Black Spade Pirates away.

Buffon, witnessing this, could not help but marvel inwardly. So this is the power of a Yonko—their control over Conqueror's Haki so precise it beggared belief. He and Saul stood barely a dozen meters from the Black Spade Pirates. If Buffon himself had attempted this, he would have caused indiscriminate harm, unable to focus the haki's range so exactly.

Seeing his crew felled in a single move, Ace's fighting spirit ignited. He struggled to his feet, mustering all his strength to unleash a wall of fire between himself and Whitebeard.

Outside the fiery barrier, the Black Spade Pirates cried out, "Captain Ace, what are you doing?"

Ace's voice came from within the flames: "Run, all of you!"

The crew fell to their knees, weeping as they shouted his name. The wall of fire, several meters high, blocked Buffon's view; he could only imagine what was happening within. He wished desperately for the powers of the See-Through Fruit, if only to continue learning from the battle.

As if reading his thoughts, Saul lifted Buffon onto his broad shoulder. Then, muttering under his breath, "Captain, have you put on weight these days? Why are you so heavy?"

Indeed, since his physique had reached level four, Buffon had gained weight rapidly these past days—now tipping the scales at 300 kilograms. Yet his body hadn't grown bloated; his muscles were simply denser, more compact than ever. Buffon shook his head expressionlessly.

Standing on Saul's shoulder, Buffon could once more see inside the fire. He fixed his gaze, not daring to miss a single detail of the fight.

Whitebeard's voice, tinged with mockery, drifted out: "What's wrong, brat? Are you backing down now, after coming this far?"

Ace glared at him, replying earnestly, "Let my crew escape. In exchange, I won't run!"

"Gurararara! You're a cocky little snot, aren't you?" Whitebeard taunted.

Ace said no more. He crouched, flames igniting on both fists, and charged at Whitebeard. "Whitebeard, let me take your head! I'll make my name known across the seas!"

Just as Ace's fiery punch was about to land, Whitebeard swung his blade in a casual arc. A flash of white, a spray of blood—Ace was sent flying, landing less than three meters from Buffon and Saul.

Saul bent as if to help, but Buffon stopped him. "This is their fight. It's not over yet."

Saul sighed and stayed his hand.

Ace, lying in a pool of blood, clenched his fists with difficulty, murmuring bitterly, "So this is the man who once rivaled him? I..."

His words were quiet, but Buffon heard them clearly.

Whitebeard's voice sounded again, "Gurararara! Getting up again, brat?"

Ace glared at Whitebeard, silent, as if awaiting judgment from fate itself.

Whitebeard paused, then continued, "It's too soon for you to die, brat! If you're not done raising hell, then bear my name—roam these seas to your heart's content!"

Hearing this, Buffon was moved—so this is the breadth of the world's strongest man? Simply because he valued talent, he was willing to use his name to shelter the very one who had sought to kill him for fame.

Whitebeard extended a massive hand towards Ace, smiling, "Gurararara! Come, brat—become my son!"

But Ace gave no reply and collapsed face-first to the ground.

"Gurararara! Out of strength at last, brat?" Whitebeard laughed.

Then his gaze shifted to Buffon and Saul. Noticing Jinbei lying at Saul's feet, Whitebeard asked, "Is Jinbei alright?"

Buffon nodded, leapt down from Saul's shoulder, and replied calmly, "Nothing serious. After fighting Ace for five days and nights, he's exhausted. Those surface wounds, I'll stitch them up shortly."

With that, Buffon walked over to Ace, preparing to sew up his wounds.

"Wait!" A blue phoenix swooped behind Whitebeard, landed, and transformed into human form before Buffon. It was none other than Marco, the First Division Commander and ship's doctor of the Whitebeard Pirates, known as the Immortal Phoenix.

"Kid, are you sure about this? Wounds carved by the old man's blade aren't so easily sutured!" Marco's tone held curiosity more than doubt.

Buffon only nodded, saying nothing, and bent over Ace, needle and thread in hand.

In moments, the wound left by Whitebeard's slash was perfectly stitched. But Buffon did not stop; he continued to suture the old injuries Ace had sustained during his battle with Jinbei.

Whitebeard watched impassively, but Marco could not remain calm.

"Is this suturing for real? Not even the capillaries are overlooked, and it's so fast—once he's done, you can't even tell there was ever a wound. This..."

The shock Marco felt now surpassed that of his entire previous forty years. As Whitebeard's doctor, his eye for medical skill was sharper than anyone's, yet Buffon's technique was nothing short of miraculous.

He nodded slightly at Whitebeard, who glanced over but said nothing, simply watching Buffon's handiwork.

To him, this was no mere surgical operation—it was a performance, a spectacle to behold.

Buffon's fingers moved so swiftly that even Whitebeard, with his keen sight, could not follow the needle's dance.

Several minutes later, Buffon finished stitching Ace's wounds and said calmly, "Let him sleep well. Five days and nights of fighting, two hundred and thirty-seven injuries, and yet another slash—he needs to recover."

Hearing this, Marco's lips twitched involuntarily. He cursed inwardly, "Is this kid even human?"